One Plus One Half Equals Three Fourths
by FearfulCaptainBiffElderberry
Summary: One Plus One Half Equals Three Fourths? Something there just doesn't make much sense. Atleast not for Cleo. BartimaeusOC romance.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: ** So anyways, welcome to my first ever fanfic. I used to always say that there were three things I would never write: smut, Sims 2 Legacies, and fan fics. Well, I wrote some smut for two of my favorite characters, and then I started a legacy. So I might as well write a fan fic.

So along with my ramblings above I'd like to appoligize if it takes me a while between post. I'm currently writing four stories. One original story called _Fawr and Vehn_. A blog, written as a fictional story, and then I'm currently working on a script, so my friends and I can make a movie. However I will try to update at least once a week.

Anyways, let's get on with the story

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One plus one half is equal to three fourths. Weird, isn't it. It doesn't make any sense to me. No matter how long I puzzle over this particular equation it doesn't make any sense. However, this one little "problem" defines the rest of my life.

See, I was sitting in The Fuse, a great club filled with loud music and happy couples. And let's not forget alcohol. Of course there was alcohol there. I was sitting in the corner of the club, hogging a whole boothed table all to myself and my trusty soda, along with the book I had been attempting to read. You might wonder why I was trying to read in the hottest club in all of Mississippi, and there's a very simple explanation. I lived upstairs. I didn't have enough cash to afford a nice apartment, and so I was renting a few rooms above the club. Sadly I got tired of the constant noise leaking through the ceiling, and the sounds of the few precious and breakable objects I had owned, shattering from the floor vibrating, so every evening I would retire down to the club, in an attempt to find solitude in the middle of a crowd.

I had lived there long enough to know the bartender well. To him I was still a mystery though. He had never been able to cox me into buying, or excepting a drink. He was confused as to why although every guy in the bar drooled over me, I showed no interest in any of them. So then he had tried to hook me up with some girls. Of course I showed no interest in them, either. To tell you the truth, I hadn't had much interest in love ever since my husband had died. Not that I was pining for him or anything. It's just that he had been my first and last experience in love, and I wished for it to remain that way. The bartender had, by now, realized that if anyone were to request that a drink be sent to me, that he should just tell them that I wasn't interested. He still however worried about my love life.

"A beautiful young lady like you," he would always tell me, "should date." I would just roll my eyes at him. He was sweet, but he just didn't understand.

I turned the page of my book, trying hard to concentrate on the words on the page, and drown out the blaring music, and the sounds of the souses over at the bar endlessly flirting with each other. I could look at them and tell every single one of them what the future held for them. For one particularly flirtatious young girl, I saw several illegitimate children in her future. For the man she was flirting with, well, I would recommend that he gets himself to the gym before that beer gut starts to grow. Then of course there was the young man the bartender was talking to. He was just weird. He seemed to me to be the nerd, over indulging in his work. The type of guy that really needed to loosen up a bit. At least he was here. This place could turn a saint into a scoundrel. At least I wasn't a saint, so I had no worries of that happening.

I turned back to my book, and tried to concentrate on the next sentence. I slammed the book closed in disgust. It was hard to read a good romance novel. Especially when love is impossible, and everyone around you is screaming, dancing, or drinking like a lunatic.

"Hi," said a voice above me, "Can I sit here?" I looked up to see the nerd from the bar standing there. His voice shocked me slightly, it was deeper that I expected. I just shrugged.

"It's a free country," I said, "Or so they tell me." I then opened my book again and pretended to read. I didn't want to make polite conversation with some idiot whose only objective for the night was to go to my place for some "hot coffee." Which is one of the reasons I don't drink coffee. If some guy suggests it, I have a good valid excuse.

"The bartender sent this, and said to enjoy." That at least got me to look up from my novel. The man had placed a dark red wine in front of me.

"No thank you," I said, returning to my novel. I couldn't believe the nerve of the bartender. He must have sent this man, in his relentless quest to get me to behave like a "normal" young person.

"So where ya from?" asked the man, nonchalantly sipping his own drink. He sounded restless, like he really didn't want to be here.

"Egypt," I said with out looking up from my book.

"Interesting." he said, "I loved Egypt the last time I was there. The pyramids, sphynxes, overpriced souvenirs and of course sand that gets in every single nook and cranny..." His voice trailed off. I could tell from the tone of his voice that he had been hoping to spark up a conversation, but I didn't feel like responding. "So what'cha reading?"

"A novel," I replied. I had considered not replying, but I just wanted to end the conversation.

"What's your name?" He seemed bored. Why should I answer the questions of some bored nerd?

"What are we playing? 20 questions or something!" I slammed the book down on the table. "Listen, I'm sure your a great guy, but I'm really not interested. Perhaps if you take this back," I handed him the glass of wine, "you can get the money you spent on it back!" I was standing now, and creating a bit of a scene. However it was too loud in here for most people to see it.

The man just scoffed. "What makes you think I'm interested in you?" he asked a look of indignation on his face.

"Because, you brought me a drink, and you sat down here." As I thought about it I realized that maybe those weren't the best reasons in the world.

"Pfh! Like I bought you this drink! Please, you're a scrawny idiotic girl who can't be more than 20! I have no interest in you." He forced the drink back into my hand. I was rather shocked at how he treated me. First off I wasn't scrawny, second off I was much older than 20! "I just came over here, because the bartender asked me to, and I have nothing else to do, till my ma..." he quickly cut off here and changed to a differently tactic, "Listen I'm sorry I've upset you. I'll just go." His eyes flashed as he turned around and left. I just bit my lip.

"Wait!" What the heck was I doing? "I'm sorry I got mad at you. Please feel free to stay." I hoped he would. I didn't know why. It's not like I liked him or anything. He turned back around and stalked back to my table.

"Hi," I said sticking out a hand, "I'm Cleo." He grabbed my hand and shook it forcefully.

"Hello," he replied, "I'm Bartimaeus."

"Bartimaeus, eh?" I asked taking a sip of wine, "So you're from Britain." He didn't have an accent, but he looked like he was British. Perhaps it was the way he was dressed, or just the smirk he wore reminded me of a cocky Brit I had know once. Either that or I was just guessing, and was likely to be wrong.

"Yes," he said, "In fact I am." He sipped his drink again, "How did you know that?"

"I've been all over the world. I can tell most people where they're from. Just by looking at them. So Britain is a far way away. How did you make it to Mississippi?"

"I walked." He said with a smirk.

"No really," I said, there was no way it was possible for him to walk from a country on the other side of a little thing we like to call an ocean, well, no way without drowning.

"Fine," he said, setting his now empty glass down on the table, "I travel a lot, too."

"So this is just a stop for you?" I asked. I felt a weird little pang in my heart when I realized that that meant that he wouldn't be here for long.

"Yeah," he said, "I won't be here for very long." Our conversation turned to other things, and before long, the club was emptying, and the bartender was smiling over at us.

"I guess this club is closing soon," Bartimaeus said, looking around at the few stragglers most of whom were passed out over the bar.

"Yep, it generally empties by 2 AM."

"Well, then I guess I better be going," With that he got up and went to pay for his drinks.

"Wait," I called again, "Would you like to come up to my apartment for some coffee?" What was I doing? I didn't feel love. I had lost that ability years ago! So what was going on now? Why did I feel this strange tingly sensation in my heart, and other more awkward places?

"You should go," the bartender told Bartimaeus, a man passed out at the bar nodded too.

"Why not?" said Bartimaeus in exasperation. And so I led him up to my room.

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I believe that was the most pleasant fling I have ever had. I never felt so wonderful, even when I had been with my late husband. Of course when we were married he was never very into me. After all, he had several more beautiful wifes, and only slept with me every once and a while out of obligation. I lay in the bed next to Bartmaeus, my arms wrapped tightly around his chest, much like he was a teddy bear. I was about to fall asleep when he began to speak.

"Um Cleo," he said, pulling out of my arms and reaching for his pants, "I have to go."

"Why?" I mumbled, trying hard not to let go of him. After all, I had greatly enjoyed myself, and I really wanted to do it again, as soon as possible.

"I have to get home?" was his only reply accompanied with a humorous grin. He was in a great hurry as if every moment he stayed with me caused him great pain.

"Why?" I asked again, pulling the sheets around me as I sat up.

"Because I have other obligations, sadly." He had almost finished dressing.

"So in other words you're married." Of course. How could such a perfect man still be available?

"No,but I must go."

"How can I reach you?" I asked. I wasn't going to give up on him no matter what.

"Why would you need to reach me?" He asked smiling again. He was in a great hurry to leave, for some reason. I just looked at him. "Fine," he wrote a phone number down on a piece of paper, "But only use it in emergencies, like if you've died or something. I really have to go now." With that he fled the room. I tried to follow him, but by the time I made it out of the bed room with the sheet I was using as a temporary dress, he was gone. There were no signs of him, almost as though he had disappeared into thin air.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **I didn't mean for it to take so long to post the next section. I got a little overwhelmed with school. We have exams coming up and then I got hit with a huge case of writer's block, that I just got over today. But there's no reason for me to sit here and babble on and on about my life. On with the story!

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I sighed as I walked down the street, remembering my fling with the mysterious man named Bartimaeus. That really had been the best night of my very long existence. I had wanted to call him, to hook up again. I had even tried to calling him, but the official and feminine voice that answered had scared me off. I entered The Fuse, and sat down on a stool in the vacant bar.

"We're not open," said the bartender, not bothering to look at me. I just moaned, and buried my head in my arms.

"Oh, hello Cleo," he said, as he saw me, "How was the doctor?" For a response I just offered the crumpled paper, with out lifting my head. I moaned again as he took it, and unfolded it.

"Oh my," he said, I just buried my head further in my arms. "And you're sure it's his?" I just nodded. "Then you have to call him. " I shook my head, as he placed the now smoothed out paper on the bar. "Cleo, he deserves to know." I finally lifted my head out of my arms.

"It's not that simple," I said, the tears welling up in my eyes, "I think he's married!" I buried my head back in my hands.

"And does that mean that he won't care?" I just shook my head. "He won't want to know?" again I shook my head. "he won't feel some responsibility?" same response. "Then you'll tell him? Again I shook my head. And so he tried to change tactics. "What's his phone number?" Well my foggy brain couldn't think, and so I held out my other hand with the crumpled phone number in it. I heard him walk away from me, as my brain started to click all the little pieces into place.

"No!" I screamed as I heard him dialing the number. I made a mad grab for the phone, and missed completely.

"Your choice," he told me, "Either I can talk to him or you can talk to him." I picked myself off the floor, grumbling about idiot bartenders, and sat back down on the stool burying my head once again in my arms.

"Yes," said the bartender to the phone, "This is the bartender from The Fuse." There was a pause as the person on the other end spoke. "Well, I'm actually calling for a friend... yes... See, about a month ago, she spent the night with a young man, by the name of Bartimaeus... Well, you see, when he left he gave her this number... So you don't know anyone by that name..." I sank deeper within my arms. So the man had lied. Not that I hadn't expected that. All the signs fit into place. And now I was alone in the world. "Oh..." the conversation had continued. "I see... Well then, I'll make sure she's there." He hung up the phone, and came back over. I looked up from my arms.

"You didn't tell him?" I asked, grabbing a peanut from a nearby bowl.

"No, that was a man named Henry Smith." I choked on the peanut. Henry Smith was the most well know magician in all of Mississippi. He was known for his southern values, and great summoning skills. He was also the one the media most liked to attack. "He wants to have lunch with you." said the bartender bringing me back to the conversation on hand. "So he will meet you at that fancy place at the edge of town..." he trailed off trying to think of the name. I just nodded knowing what restaurant he was talking about. "Anyways, you're meeting in an hour." When I protested he told me that I had nothing better to do; to which I had to agree and therefore ended up going.

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I sat at one of the tables in the fancy Italian restaurant, that Mr. Smith had picked out. I had arrived a few minutes early, mostly because I couldn't stop pacing, and had nothing better to do. As I scanned the menu I realized that there was only one thing I could afford on the menu; sadly it was water. I felt so out of place in this place; everyone around me wore formal clothing, ate with poise, and reeked of pricey scents. I was wearing my nicest pair of blue jeans, knew nothing about the fancy silverware, and was wearing my cheap on sale perfume. I scanned my eyes over the menu again, wishing that I had opted to eat that peanut butter and jelly sandwich the bartender had offered me earlier.

I heard someone speaking above me. Looking up, I saw the server showing two men to my table. One of which I recognized from bill boards across the state, as Henry Smith. The other sparked a memory, but I lost it. He was obviously Egyptian, and looked to more of a scribe of old than anything else. I knew I had seen him before, but I could place the face.

"Hello," said Mr. Smith, shaking my hand. I had just taken a sip of my rather expensive tap water, so I couldn't respond. I just motioned for him and his companion to sit down. They sat and began to examine the menu.

"So," said Henry. He spoke with a deep southern ancient, one which I could only assumed helped him to gain popularity. After all, it was the kind of voice that spoke of old country values and the simple life. "You're friend said this was rather important." He put down his menu and stared deep into my eyes. I searched them for something. Some sort of sign that he had all the answers, but I found none.

I took a deep breath, and began. "Honestly, when my friend called you, I wasn't expecting him to actually reach you." I faltered out here. How could I tell the most respected magician in all of Mississippi, that I was pregnant, and the father had given me his number. "Well, I was actually looking for a man by the name of Bartimaeus." Henry's friend gave a bit of a start. It was slight, but years of training helped me to catch it.

"Yes, I have a servant by that name." By servant I could only assume he meant a djinn he kept in slavery. Looking in his eyes, I could see his mind swiftly working through all the possible reasons I could be looking for Bartimaeus. I saw, lawsuits, deaths, and damaged property.

"Well," I said trying to calm my nerves, "I very much doubt it's the same Bartimaeus. After all the Bartimaeus I'm talking about got me pregnant." I had rushed the words together, looking down at my empty plate. I know looked up at my audience and saw the stunned look on both of their faces. Henry's had lost all the ideas floating through his eyes. He no longer saw lawsuits and fees. Instead he saw a large press release, and a huge mathematical problem. One in which he tried to figure out how this had happened.

I looked over at his companion. His mouth had hit the floor. Literally. Henry looked over at his friend, and then the large crowd staring at the jaw on the floor. "Bartimaeus," he whispered to his friend, "pick up your jaw! You're drawing attention." His friend reached down and picked his jaw up off the floor, and reattached it to the jaw.

"You're... You're... a djinn." I stared flabbergasted at the man. It had been years since I had seen one. "And so you're Bartimaeus?" My lip quivered. I barely held in my temper. It's not that I have anything against djinn. In fact my best friend had many djinn he counted among his friends. It's just that the idea of sleeping with one was just gross! And it couldn't be possible for the two of us to have a child. It was hard to believe that this was possible. After all this "man" wasn't even human! Was it possible for us to have a child? There was a stunned silence all around. "Listen," I said, drawing on the last of my courage. "I doubt that you are the actual father," I told Bartimaeus, "After all, it shouldn't be possible. I'll be leaving now." With that, I stood, and fled from the restaurant. I made it half way home before I realized that I hadn't paid for my overpriced glass of dirty water. I scoffed at the thought of returning, and decided that it wasn't worth going all the way back just to pay for it. When I reached my room, I threw myself on my bed and cried the rest of the day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note:** So I have a few things to say before we get to the story. First off I want to apologize. It's been well over a month since I last updated, and I have two good reasons for this.

First,when I started writing this, I was having great fun. I was in what I'd like to refer to as "writer's heaven." I was happily working on many stories, and had time and inspiration to write everyday. Well, then I got bumped down to earth. School got harder. I had more guard practices. I started to run out of writing time. That was ok though. I was still determined to force this chapter out of my head. Then disaster struck. This disaster is the second reason for this chapter being so late. My characters decided to play personality toss up. I'll explain that in a minute, but let's continue with this little trip. Well, that disaster took me down to writer's hell. (excuse my language, but I think that that sentence wouldn't work with writer's heck.) Then of course life got even busier. I had even more harder homework. I had to learn to toss a double on sabre or risk being taken off sabre line. (I don't normally bruise, and that project caused several bruises that didn't want to heal.) Then life took a turn for the worse, and I had several personal issues that I had to struggle through, and am in fact still struggling through. cries I will get through them eventually.

But on a much happier note, I want to tell you about Personality Toss Up. Before I can do that I have to tell you about some of my other characters that were involved. You have Barty, Cleo and Henry, whom you've already met, but then there's Fawr, Vehn, and Zeroun. Fawr is based off Fred Weasley, and Vehn, is just some lovable guy, who Fawr happens to be dating. Zeroun is Fawr's teacher, who has anger management issues, and hates Vehn, for something Vehn's great-great-great-great-grandfather did to him. So when Cleo, Barty, and Henry decided to play this game, they tried to suck these other characters into it also. Luckily Fawr and Vehn ran off to have some "alone time." So it was just Cleo, Barty, Henry, and Zeroun who decided to play this game. What they did was take their personalities, and toss them up in the air. They then grabbed one at random, and pretended that nothing happened. So Cleo got Barty's personality, and Barty grabbed Zeroun. Zeroun and Henry however were too stupid to grab a personality. Henry just stood there with a trail of drool leaving his mouth, and Zeroun went to Wal-mart and got a super evil, psyco personality. Sadly I didn't realize that they had played this game till I got about halfway through this chapter and realized they were all so OOC. I think I finally got some of them back, but Barty seems to refuse to release Zeroun's old personality.

So those are my excuses. I'm also going to apoligize in advance for two things. One, I might have missed some spelling and grammar things. I'm currently home sick, and my two friends who I kidnap as proofreaders are both at school, and won't be able to read it till 3rd period... which is actually in 15 minutes... But I'm to anxious to get this out, to wait for them to proof it. Second, It might tame me a while to figure out the next chapter. I have no earthly idea where it's going from here. I need to plot it out. I will soon.

Now that I've rambled for about three paragraphs (I blame the dayquill, it really works. I can almost breath, but I can't really think...) it's time we get on with the story. So I bid you adieu. Have fun! ;P

P.S. I have 4 ish one shots I'm polishing up to publish here. However they're all from either Harry Potter, or Loveless, and rated M, so I'm not sure how much ya'll like them but just so you know, I will be publishing something else soon...

* * *

That evening I dragged my self down to the bar. I rarely got drunk, but tonight I intended to. I plopped myself down at the bar, and preceded to ask for the most alcohol that could be fit into a drink. 

"No," replied the bartender, "not while your pregnant." I just glared at him. It wasn't his business if I got drunk. But in the end I agreed with him, and decided to just order a soda. Sadly, drowning your sorrows in a soda, doesn't work quiet as well as drowning them in a good glass of highly concentrated alcohol.

The bartender came back over to check on me. "you feelin' ok?" he asked, as I stared into the bottom of my glass.

"Ya," was my only reply. In truth I wasn't. I felt sick to my stomach. I was going to have a baby. It all seemed to be sinking in now. I was going to a mother. If only my "dearly departed" husband could see me now. He had always wanted me to bear the heir to his dynasty, but I had never conceived before. We both had had different ideas as to why this was. I claimed it was the other women he bedded, his drinking habits, and that whole Darwinian survival of the fittest. (Apparently it was a good idea to keep his genes out of the gene pool). He however claimed it was because of my little accident. I claimed it was nonsence that such a thing could be possible, but a good friend of mine later sided with my husband.

"Don't look now," said the bartender softly, "but I think you might know the people who just entered the bar." I, of course, whipped around to see who was standing at the entrance. I heard a loud smack behind me, as the bartender hit his head. Apparently he had been serious about that "don't look" thing.

I scanned the crowded club, and finally laid eyes one the new people in the club. I felt my stomach give a lurch as I recognized Henry and Bartimaeus scanning the crowd. I put the money down on the counter to pay for my drink, and began to make my way toward the stairs, keeping my eyes on them all the way.

I saw them talk in a low tone, making me really wish I could still read lips. Bartimaeus looked directly at me, before he began to move. My eyes grew wide, and I made a run for it. I scrambled for my keys. I didn't want to have to talk with them again today. I highly doubted that this "djinn" was the father of my child. It had to be someone else. After all, it's impossible for djinn and humans to reproduce together, right? I finally reached the door, keys in hand, and managed to beat Bartimaeus into the small hallway that lead to the upstairs rooms.

I slammed the door shut with a sigh of releif. I was safe. I slid down the door, and sat there to catch my breath. I wouldn't have to have that conversation tonight. In fact I never would have it. After tonight, I would move. I would fine someplace knew to live. Perhaps I'd move back to London. It had been nice there. Or I might find a small cottage by the sea. Some place nice, were I could raise this child of mine.

I suddenly smelled something weird, and looking down I saw some dark smoke seeping through the crack under the door. I cursed silently, getting up, and attempting to move forward, but, sadly, the tentacles of smoke begin to curl around my feet. I watched in horror as they turned into an asp. Deadly from the looks of it. My fear of them happened to take effect then, and I was unable to move. I watched as the asp curled it's way up my leg, until hit wond it's way around my shoulders.

The asp, then shifted to the form of Bartimaeus. He unceremoniously grabbed my wrists, forcing me against the wall.

"Hey!" I protested, "That hurts!" My face was pressed hard against the wall, and I kept biting the inside of my cheek. I heard Bartimaeus unlock the door, however he still managed to have both hands holding my wrist. I wondered how this was possible, when I suddenly remembered that he was a djinn, and there fore didn't have to have just two arms like us regular humans.

The door opened, and I was swung around, to face the door. There stood Henry and the bartender.

"Tut,tut," said Henry, examining the painful red marks that now appeared on my wrists from Bartimaeus' tight hold. "There's no reason to hurt her," he told Bartimaeus who instantly released my wrist. "Just make sure she stays for awhile." I rubbed my wrist glaring up at him.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly.

"Just to talk." Henry replied, examining a fingernail. "I wanted to make sure you were ok after you stormed out of the restaurant earlier, leaving me with the check."

I heard a snicker behind me, but choose to ignore it. "Every thing's fine," I said rather harshly. Suddenly my shoes became very interesting. I didn't want to be here, and I didn't appreciate the "demon" standing behind me.

Henry looked around uncomfortably, "You're lying," he said, a note of kindness filling his voice. Another snicker filled the air behind me. I swear if that thing didn't stop with the small noises soon, then I'd have to turn around and put it out of it's misery!

Henry turned to look at the bartender who had been standing there in awkward silence. "Is there anywhere a little quieter for us to continue this conversation?" The bartender nodded silently, and began to show Henry to another part of the club. For a moment I considered making a run for my room, but a firm hand placed on my shoulder told me that I wouldn't make it that far.

The bartender showed us to a comfortable room, and quickly made his escape. Henry motioned for me to sit down, which I did. He then took a seat himself. Bartimaeus however stayed standing.

Henry begin to talk. He explained to me how he believed that the child could possibly be Bartimaeus'. He said he wanted to do some research into how it was possible. He babbled on about how he thought it could be a great scientific discovery, and even if it bore no results it would still be interesting to study. I didn't pay as much attention as I should have. I spent half the time glaring at the stupid djinn, with his stupid smirk plastered all over his stupid face.

"So do you agree?" Henry asked, looking very happy to have finished his proposal without either of us butting in.

"Huh?" Was my only response. I had stopped paying attention some time ago.

Henry sighed, as he finally figured out why I hadn't interrupted him. "Do you mind if I study this?" he asked, his hands flailing uselessly in the air, as if he were trying to gesture towards something.

"Sure," I shrugged, "Why not?" I didn't really have anything better to do, and it was fun to watch humanity in its ever awkward dance towards perfection. Here's a hint, it stumbles often.

"Great!" Henry sounded like a toddler who had just entered a candy store, "I'll get all the plans to you soon, so we can start this project." He began to fumble for all the papers he had brought. He must of have thought that I was like some rich bureaucrat who had to be convinced to invest in this program. "By the way," he said as Bartimaeus finally helped him to get his papers organized and together, "Where do you life? My servant said upstairs, but that can't be true."

I laughed. "Of course it is. Why would he lie to you? And if you thought he was lying, then why would you have believed him about the child?"

Henry seemed to get more flustered, if that was even possible. "Oh never mind!" He turned a bright shade of red.

"Just ask her," Bartimaeus said, "I'm sure she won't bite." he smirked, "much."

"Ask what?" I asked with a prize-winning smile.

Henry attempted to say, but his words just faded off into the distance. I just smiled at him, trying to both mock him and give him courage. I think I pulled it off rather well. "Umm," he started again, intent on getting to the finish line this time. "Well, I was slightly worried that all the noise here could harm the baby." He turned red again and stopped.

"He wants to know if you would mind moving into his house," Bartimaeus finally said, getting tired of this.

I laughed as Henry reached new shades of red. He quickly tripped over his tongue as he tried to explain that it was just to make research easier, and to protect the child. I laughed again, and agreed.

I then walked them out of the club, anxious to head back to my room and relax some. After all, it had been a long day, and I deserved some rest.


End file.
